


10-35 (Out to Eat)

by everyshootingstar



Series: You'll be the Worker, I'll be the Soldier [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Firefighter Stiles, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyshootingstar/pseuds/everyshootingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey there hotstuff, what can I get you?” Erica asked, causing Stiles to jump. She snickered softly and cocked her hip against the table, “Long day?” she asked teasingly.</p>
<p>Stiles looked up at her, pushing the menu away from him, back over towards the napkin holder. “Hey,” he said and then casually, “Coffee?” he asked. “Black. As strong as you can make it. I have a long night.”</p>
<p>Erica made a displeased sound, scribbling down the drink on her notepad, “Alright Batman,” she said. “Anything else?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	10-35 (Out to Eat)

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man I didn't anticipate that the wait would be this long. A lot of things have happened like woah man you wouldn't believe. So, I'm going to keep the notes short at the beginning and once again it's really late so if there's glaring mistakes, give me a little holler and I'll fix it :3 <3 Hope you guys enjoy this chapter, because despite my inability to write anything other than platonic based relationships, I'm really trying with this <3

“Beacon Hills, Station 600.”

“ _Go ahead Station 600.”_

“Station 600’s clear and en route back to station.”

“ _Ten-four Station 600_.”

Stiles sighed and tossed his radio down into the seat of Responder One and gripped the steering wheel tighter. After the fifth overdose call from the residence in one day, he was a bit tired of having to come all the way out here on the very edge of the jurisdiction. Especially with Lydia doing something else with her _actual_ job, he was the only other first responder capable of coming out and standing around as Medic arrived on scene first and did all the work. Again.

He glanced at the clock and made a face. It was ten after eleven and he had to be to work in fifty minutes. He could always call out and say he’s feeling a bit under the weather, but then he’d lose a day’s pay and he’d also feel bad for not being sick at all, just tired.

Which he was. He was exhausted, especially with officer and chief elections coming, the whole entire process of trying to get a new truck for the department and trying to listening to everyone’s concerns about said truck. They needed a brush truck, but five stations in the county had a brush truck so maybe they should get a pumper…but they already had two of them out of service why not fix them up; it’d be cheaper, well what about a tanker then, but does the department really want to spend that type of money on a truck they don’t really need?

Everything was chaotic in his mind and even the upping the dosage of his daily Adderall intake didn’t seem to help at all.

He pressed down on the gas a bit, urging Responder to go a bit faster, wanting to make it back to the station in time to run by the diner and pick up some food.

Since Isaac had shown him that place weeks ago, he’d been going there off and on, picking up hot chocolate in the evenings or on rainy days, getting a bite to eat with Scott and Allison even.

It’d become a sort of routine that he didn’t really want to throw off, especially not since he’d seen Derek there a few of those times, always sitting at the bar, working on a laptop or scribbling things down into a notebook, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

So maybe he had this interest in Derek.

He didn’t get crushes anymore, he was well into his twenties (a lie, he was only twenty-four) and he was too old to be crushing on some guy (some _werewolf_ ) who happened to have a nice looking face and (from what he’s experienced) a misunderstood personality.

He wasn’t like the usual pretty guy out there (no offence to Jackson who most definitely fell into that pretty guy category subcategorized as _pretty guy who parades around like a major jackass_.) But Derek seemed different.

Stiles turned on the emergency lights as he pulled in front of the station, driving past the inclined parking area just enough so he could back Responder into the empty bay.

Once he was parked and all the lights and engine were shut off, he grabbed his report and radio and hopped out of the driver’s seat.

Stiles snagged a pen from the rec table on his way to the office and marked Greenburg’s number on the ‘Officers present at scene’ area of the report, knowing that if he didn’t Greenburg would go through the report and change things just to purposely get him in trouble with the association.

Paid firefighter, after all. Even if Greenburg was completely human, he worked as a state grunt, reporting everything back to the Council that was awry at the station, which therefore made him a paid instead of a measly volunteer.

Was it fair? Nope, not at all. Did that stop it from happening? Nope, not at all.

“Bilinski, don’t forget to let the probies know that the trucks need to be washed and waxed before the parade in a few weeks, I don’t care when it happens but I want them to shine so bright the sun reflects off of them and burns the eyes of all those watching.” Finstock said, a slightly maniacal glee in his eyes as he looked up from the laptop screen as Stiles walked into the office to hand off his report.

He stopped in his tracks, “Uh…” Stiles said slowly, handing off his report to the department’s secretary. “Will do?” he said, although it sounded more like a question. “Yeah…no worries chief, I’ll let them know.”

Finstock looked back down at the laptop, seemingly happy.

Stiles backed out of the office slowly, making sure to watch Finstock carefully until he was sure he could turn and book it without being dragged back into the orifices of hell.

On his way out, he stopped by the cleaning locker and noted the supplies he’d need to buy in order to actually follow through with Finstock’s orders.

Minus the help of the probies, that is. Most of the probationary firefighters were already being paid because of their superhuman status. Completely unfair, because they were paid based on their immortality, instead of being paid based on their training (like all other firefighters at the department.)

Put into simple terms, he could get his Eleven Fifty-Two training all damn day long and he’d still have to wait until the next year to claim a 1% tax write off, whereas anyone who joins the fire department that’s a werewolf gets put on the salary roster right away.

Again, unfair, but the council was a very corrupt thing, much like any sort of council that had people like Deucalion on it. The council was actually evenly human and werewolf…but Deucalion had such a tight leash around the werewolf members (pun not intended) that if they were to vote on anything pertaining to the equality between human and superhuman members, the werewolf members would stay true to their roots and vote for werewolf supremacy no matter what they _really_ believed in. Then there’d be a stalemate because unless it’s a unanimous decision. Much like it is now. A stalemate on the issue of whether or not human firefighters can be paid just like the werewolf members, based on their training and experience.

Stiles rubbed his eyes as he walked out of the department to his jeep. It was now about thirty minutes until his shift, meaning that he had just enough time to drop by the diner and grab a bite to eat before he needed to be at the store so he could relieve whoever was working.

Thankfully the diner was only down the street and he wasted about five minutes driving there and finding a parking place, before grabbing his radio from the visor above his head and hopping out of the jeep.

Once he was seated at a table and looking over the one page menu, he felt himself relax a bit into the muted sounds of the few customers’ conversations.

“Hey there hotstuff, what can I get you?” Erica asked, causing Stiles to jump. She snickered softly and cocked her hip against the table, “Long day?” she asked teasingly.

Stiles looked up at her, pushing the menu away from him, back over towards the napkin holder. “Hey,” he said and then casually, “Coffee?” he asked. “Black. As strong as you can make it. I have a long night.”

Erica made a displeased sound, scribbling down the drink on her notepad, “Alright Batman,” she said. “Anything else?”

 “Not right now, I just really need coffee.” He said, grabbing for his radio as dispatch came over and warned another station in the area to standby. Stiles turned it down, knowing full well that the tone was coming next and that Erica and the other werewolf patrons here would probably appreciate not being deafened by the sudden loud piercing noise.

A little over five minutes later, a mug was set down in front of him and he reached for it, babbling out a thank you to Erica as he took a drink of it.

But it wasn’t coffee.

“Erica,” Stiles whined after he swallowed a mouthful of hot chocolate. “I thought I said coffee, I have a long shift tonight.”

“And I can smell the disgusting chemical smell of Adderall.” Erica said with a frown on her face. “So can Derek. Which is why we’re not going to give you coffee.”

“What?” Stiles asked, looking up at Erica, feeling a bit angry that they made that decision for him. “You do realize I’m not a part of your little pack so your alpha can’t make that decision for me.”

Erica raised an eyebrow at Stiles, “So you want to feel like shit in about two hours then, right?” she asked, her tone completely dry. “Excuse us for wanting you to actually stay awake during your shift,” she said as she turned sharply and marched back to the kitchen before Stiles could say anything.

“She cares about you, you know.” Isaac said, suddenly appearing beside him, wearing an apron, “So does Derek, for some reason. And your friend, Scott…he mentioned you pretty much passed out last time you had coffee when your Adderall levels needed to be increased.”

He had a point, Stiles grudgingly admitted, which made Isaac’s face light up when he told him, like he’d done or said something right. (Something a little part of Stiles’ brain wanted to look into but he pushed it away because that’d be prying and probably more damaging to their budding relationship.)

“Do you work here?” Stiles asked, watching as Isaac wiped down a table, “Even though I _know_ you make a pretty penny driving your fancy ambulance.”

“Sometimes I like to help out,” Isaac said, “This is Derek’s business, sort of. And we all like to help him out when we can.”

“What do you mean, sort of?” Stiles asked, curious.

Isaac just raised an eyebrow at Stiles and waved him off, “Ask Derek sometime. Also apologize to Erica.”

Stiles sighed softly, “Will you tell her for me?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to snap at her. It’s been a long day—”

“And you’ve got a long shift tonight,” Isaac cut him off with a wry smile, “Yes, everyone in the kitchen heard you.”

He blushed, “Right.” He said. “So can you?”

Isaac sighed this time, “Maybe,” he said. “But next time you’ve got to find her yourself and apologize to her.”

Stiles nodded, “Definitely,” he said, “Definitely, thank you, Isaac.”

Isaac just shook his head and walked away back to the kitchen, carrying a dishrag over his shoulder.

He took another sip of the hot chocolate and felt the warmth spread in his stomach that was mostly from the drink. So Derek cared about him? That was new. He didn’t realize it was a thing; he hadn’t really talked to Derek much after that first night with Isaac.

“Food,” Erica said, surprising Stiles (who was in his own head again) by placing a plate down on the table in front of him. “Sweet potato hash browns, scrambled eggs, sausage because you’re obviously a man who loves his meat and two blueberry chocolate chip waffles.”

“Uh…” Stiles looked up at Erica, “I didn’t order anything, though.”

Erica smirked at him, “It’s on the house,” she said. “Derek’s orders. On the condition that you don’t ever send Isaac back there to apologize for your screw ups again.”

Slightly intrigued by the idea of sweet potato hash browns, Stiles picked his fork up and took a bite of them, “Deal,” he said, almost immediately once the sweet and slightly crunchy hash browns touched his tongue. “Definite deal.”

She chuckled, “I’ll let Derek know you enjoy his cooking,” she said. “Sweet potatoes, blueberries, hot pepper and eggs all promote more energy. Your hot chocolate is made with dark chocolate which is why it’s not as sweet as it usually is. Dark chocolate has caffeine in it, but not enough to make you crash. You’re welcome.”

Stiles looked up at Erica in surprise, slightly touched by the thought that was put into all of this, “Do I really smell that bad when I take a higher dose of Adderall?” he asked, curious.

She shrugged, “To me and Isaac? Yeah. Derek never complains though, so I dunno. Maybe you smell different.” Erica reached out and snagged one of the sausage links from his plate, “I’ll see you later, Stilinski, enjoy your shift tonight, no coffee, remember.”

He didn’t usually listen to other people worrying over him, but something about Erica’s tone made him nod a bit quickly, knowing she’d probably find out if he didn’t follow her orders.  “Yes ma’am,” he mumbled, taking a bite of his eggs, noting that they were a bit spicier than usual.

After finishing his meal and paying (making sure to leave a large tip for Erica) he checked the time and cursed. Of course he’d have about ten minutes to get to his job and get changed before his coworker started counting down the register.

Except Stiles had the worst luck because he ended up being almost five minutes late and his coworker was already counting down his register, shooting him angry glances as he hurried to the bathroom, clutching his uniform against his chest.

Tonight was going to be probably a long, hell filled night.

-

Boy was he right about the hell. It was already past two in the morning and he was only halfway done with his cleaning list because first and second shift decided that today was the day they were _not_ going to do their own cleaning _and_ not to mention it was a Friday going into Saturday so it was much busier than usual.

It was just his luck, really.

The annoying bell went off, alerting him of a customer. He swore to himself, backing out of the cabinet and almost hitting his head on the lip of counter as he sat up.

He quickly stood and turned around, faltering a bit, “D-Derek,” he said, hoping the stutter in his voice wasn’t as noticeable as it felt.

It must have been because Derek’s lips quirked a bit at the greeting, and he held up a white bag, “Thought you could use some late dinner. You ate breakfast earlier at the diner.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow at Derek, but walked towards him, “You didn’t have to,” he said, “Although I very much enjoy it.”

“Didn’t have to, but wanted to.” Derek said, holding the bag out to Stiles.

He took the bag and opened it up, immediately smelling the grilled salmon and curly fries. “Let me guess, more energy giving foods.” He said, slightly amused.

Derek shrugged, “Drinking coffee is bad for you, in case you didn’t realize. Erica’s worried you’re going to end up going into a caffeine induced coma, so it was partially her idea.”

Stiles once again felt touched, “I didn’t expect you to actually…do this outside of the diner,” he said, looking up from the contents of the bag. “Oh hey, there’s a cup there, mine too?” he asked, nodding to the Styrofoam cup.

Derek, with an amused smile on his face, picked the cup up and placed it in Stiles’ other hand, “It’s hot chocolate, dark chocolate again, but there’s a shot of caramel in it to sweeten it a bit.”

Lifting the cup to his lips, Stiles took a long drink of it and let out an almost pornographic moan at the taste, “Wow.” He said. “You made this?”

“It’s a special order,” Derek said with a slightly sheepish shrug. “Erica and I came up with it when we found out that Laura had food allergies to certain things and regular hot chocolate caused her to break out in hives. It’s a special recipe that I figured might help you out a little more than coffee.”

Stiles smiled at Derek, “That’s…ridiculously sweet of you,” he said, walking around Derek towards the small area of tables inside the store, “You must be a good alpha to your pack, huh?” he asked.

“Not always.” Derek said with a casual shrug as he followed Stiles. “I used to be young and stupid, turning people because of the wrong reasons. I’m better now, my pack keep me grounded.”

“So you’re trying to recruit me into your pack, then?” Stiles asked, taking a bite of his grilled salmon sandwich.

Derek rolled his eyes, “Not every werewolf does things based on the pack mentality,” he said. “Maybe I just genuinely care about your wellbeing.”

Stiles snorted, “Right,” he said. “Caring about my wellbeing?”

“Maybe you should get to know me better, Stiles, before you start passing judgment about my person.”

Stiles hummed, “And when would I even do that? You busy with your fancy werewolf business and me with my human business.”

“Maybe we should go out to dinner sometime?”

He choked, “Are you _asking me out_?” Stiles asked, beating on his chest a bit.

Derek huffed, “As _friends_ you dimwit,” he said. “To get to know each other better. We can trade notes. Werewolf to annoying human cretin.”

Stiles spluttered, “ _Human cretin_!?” he asked, “Listen here, I’ll kick your little _werewolf ass_ …”

“Easy now killer,” Derek said dryly. “I’m kidding. You and I should go out as friends sometime. Get to know each other a little better that way it’s not so strange to you that I’m bringing your food and caring about your wellbeing.”

After the initial shock wore off, Stiles was a bit more calm about it, “Yeah, okay.” He said. “Maybe we could go out sometime next weekend? I don’t have to work so I’ll just be on call at the department.”

Derek thought about it for a moment, “Next weekend’s fine,” he said, smiling.

Stiles was a bit thrown off by the smile, “Cool,” he said distractedly, “So, here’s my number…” he said, quickly ripping part of the bag off and grabbing a pen from his pocket. “Just call me sometime and we can set everything up?” he asked.

“Sounds good to me,” Derek said, taking the piece of paper from Stiles, “And now it’s going to seem like I just did all of this to get your number,” he said teasingly as he pushed his chair back, “But I have to get back to the diner and you have to get back to work.”

Stiles groaned, “Yeah,” he grumbled as he cleaned up his mess and stood up, “You’re right. I have a lot to do…then I have many hours to sleep. Thank you for the food and hot chocolate.”

Derek stood up also, following Stiles back up to the front of the store, “I’ll call you,” he said. “And you’re welcome.”

Stiles watched Derek leave, feeling warm all over and even more intrigued at the enigma that was Derek Hale.

Maybe tonight didn’t suck as much as Stiles was led to believe in the beginning, especially after the surprise visit from Derek, things were starting to look up now.

Until the door opened and in came a group of loud and drunk people, one of them immediately stumbling into a display and knocking it over.

Well things _were_ looking up.


End file.
